Miss Shumway Waves A Wand

I thanked him. “Of course, I don’t know what this’s about,” I said. “But, if I can lend you anything or help you, just say the word.” I looked at Myra who had been watching with alert eyes. “Do you know these two gentlemen?”

“We met at a café,” she said slowly. “But, it was just a hello and good-bye acquaintance. We had a drink and we parted.

“Yeah, we parted okay,” Bogle said, breathing heavily. “Our dough went with you.”

In spite of this guy’s bulk, I wasn’t standing for that. I stood up, “Are you calling her a thief?” I demanded angrily.

Bogle crowded me. It gave me .the impression that a mountain was going to fall on me.

“Yeah,” he said, showing his tobacco stained teeth. “Do you want to make anything of it?”

I decided that I’d be more use to Myra if I remained in one piece. The Bogle fella looked like he might be a little too much for me. Besides, I never like hitting anyone twice my size. I don’t see any sense in it.

“No, that’s all right, Bud,” I said, stretching my leg and stamping. “I got a cramp?”

“Cramp?” he repeated, blinking at me.

“Yeah, nasty thing, cramp.” I looked over at Myra. “Do you ever get cramp?”

“Only when I wear pink,” she said. “It’s a funny thing, but, pink cramps my style.” Bogle’s blood pressure seemed to be troubling him. He tore his hat off his head and dashed it on to the ground. Then he began punching the air with his fists.

“Gently, Bogle,” Ansell broke in. “There’s no need to lose your temper.”

“I want my dough!” Bogle howled, kicking his hat across the verandah. “I don’t want a lot of talk. I just want my money and then I’m going to tear this dame into small pieces and feed her to the vultures.”

Ansell drew up a chair. “We mustn’t jump to conclusions,” he said. “We have no proof that Miss Shurnway took our money.”

“I’ve get proof,” Bogle said savagely. “I’ll get it if I have to turn her inside out.”

Myra’s blue eyes widened for an instant. Then I knew. She had lifted the money. That slaughtered me. It not only complicated matters, but it gave these two guys an opportunity to be really awkward if they felt that way.

“Don’t get your truss in a knot,” Myra said sharply. I’ll say this for the girl, she’d got plenty of nerve. “What are you talking about?”

Bogle seemed to be praying. But the words that came through his clenched teeth didn’t quite line up with divine thought.

“We think you stole our money,” Ansell said, looking at her steadily. “We both had small sums on us, but when you left, the money had gone. I don’t like to accuse you, but you’ll have to satisfy us that you didn’t take it.”

She whirled round on Bogle, “I bet this was your idea,” she said. “I wish I had you at home. I’d use your head in my rock garden.”

Bogle’s muscles began to expand. “Iszatso!” he said. “Let me tell you something. You’ve shot your mouth off long enough. Now, it’s my turn. Gimme that dough or I’ll turn you upside down and shake it out of you. And if this punk thinks he can stop me, then let’s see him do it. They’ll have to hose him off the wall by the time I’m through with him!”

Maybe there are a few jaded people on the look-out for a new sensation, but I’m not like that. Being hosed off a wail didn’t sound like a pleasant way to spend the morning.

“Myra,” I said firmly, “Give these gentlemen their money and explain, as you explained to me, that it was just a gag. They’ll appreciate it as much as I did—I hope.”

Myra hesitated, then shrugged. She took a roll of notes from the top of her stocking and tossed it on the table. “There’s your money,” she said angrily. “I hope the rot-gut you buy with it poisons you.”

Ansell picked up the money and counted it. He gave seven dollars to Bogle and put the rest in his pocket.

Bogle drew a deep breath, “And now,” he said, hitching up his trousers, “I’m going to smack her one. Sister, am I going to bounce you off a wall!”

Ansell frowned. “Don’t be so primitive, Bogle,” he said. “You should never strike a woman.”

“Not in public, anyway,” I added.

“I’ll take her some place quiet,” Bogle pleaded.

“Certainly not,” Ansell said. Now that he had got his money, he seemed to take a much more agreeable view of life. He turned to Myra, “Now, young lady,” he said briskly, “I want to talk to you. I admire cleverness. That was a neat trick you pulled on us. A very neat trick. I deplore your ethics, of course,” he added hastily, “but there can be no mistaking talent. You have great talent.”

Myra seemed inclined to be sore. “Go boil your head, you old owl,” she said and turned her back on him.

Ansell looked upset, “Pity,” he muttered; then catching my eye, he went on, “And you, sir? Who may you be?”

“The name is Ross Millan,” I said. “I’m a representative of the New York Reporter.”

“New York Reporter?” Ansell’s eyes opened. “That’s one of America’s greatest newspapers. I’m pleased to know you, Mr. Millan.” He offered his hand, “I’m only sorry that we should meet under such distressing circumstances.”